Superman
by Rosa Heartlily
Summary: Irvine tells us a secret about his past.


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Superman

A response to the second DSL challenge by Rosa Heartlily

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The challenge is to write a fanfic based (loosely or not) on the lyrics of "Superman" by Five For Fighting. The fanfic must contain one unsuspected/unknown event in the character's past, one repeated piece of imagery (i.e. one particular flower, or the use of ice to signify something, or whatever), and either a swordfight or a Chocobo race for high stakes of some sort. Also, it should take place after the end of the game.

Disclaimer: all of the characters, locations, creatures and vehicles use in this fic are the property of Squaresoft, with the exception of Uncle Dan who belongs to Lady Aliena and appears here with her permission.

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"'Heroes of the Second Sorceress War!'

"That's what they call us. Heroes.

"Heroes? Huh, not me, not Irvine Kinneas. I'm no comic book legend in tights and a spangly cloak, all square jaw and filled with purpose. I'm just an ordinary bloke who got tangled up in an extraordinary situation, just like the others. 

"Even Selphie, who of all of us most enjoys the limelight, hates the attention we get for being 'heroes'. You can't go into a pub for a quiet drink without some idiot, ie, YOU, demanding to hear the whole sorry thing over again. Like you didn't read it in the papers, or buy all the individual biographies they wrote (all 100% unofficial by the way; none of us would put our names to them), or all those, 'The Second Sorceress War: how it was REALLY won' type books.

"Hyne, it makes my stomach heave just thinking about it.

"But this story isn't about the Second Sorceress War, and it certainly isn't about heroes. It's the antidote to all that, and I hope that, when you've heard it, next time you see a documentary about me, or any other 'hero' you'll turn up your nose and say, 'Huh, don't know what all the fuss is about! He's only some ordinary bloke, you know.'

"That's what I hope – that's my purpose in telling you this.

*********

"One of the best things to happen because of the Second Sorceress War, indeed about the only good thing, was that I met Selphie Tilmitt.

"How do I describe Selphie to you?

"Oh, I know you've seen all the 'photos, and read the newspaper descriptions; 'perky', 'petite', 'chirpy'. But none of that comes close to my Selphie. It doesn't begin to describe her. I mean, she _is_ all those things, but that's only the surface.

"Underneath is the original heart of gold. She'd do anything for a friend – Hyne, she'd do almost anything for anyone! – because she loves to help, she loves to be useful. Yes, she can chatter on for hours about nothing very much, but she can also listen, be a shoulder to cry on.

"It's a wonder there's anything left of her, the number of times I've wept on her! You'd think she'd have been washed away…….. 

"Oh, and don't think this is all one way – she's done her share of weeping in my arms, too; but I'm telling you about her, and what a light she is in my life.

"I love the way she gets excited and enthusiastic about all sorts of things –baby chocobos, music, books, the history of Esthar. Is there anything that _doesn't_ interest her? Hyne, I even look at trains in a different way, now, because of her!

"OK, so now you know a little more about Selphie than you did before – and the fact that it is so little is because I can't do her justice, not because there isn't much to tell. But there is one thing I haven't told you yet about Selphie. Perhaps the most important thing – the key to understanding her.

"She is _absolutely_ fearless.

"I don't mean in battle, when you're lost in the noise and the heat and the struggle to survive, and you can barely keep track of where your companions are, let alone if they are alive and well. There's no time for fear in those situations – any of us will tell you that.

"No, I mean those situations where you know what you are doing is dangerous, but you do it anyway, knowing exactly what you are getting into. 

"Not that she takes silly risks. She would never bungy-jump, for example, unless she had all the safety equipment on, and the bungy was properly secured. But she would still bungy-jump, just for the thrill of it.

"Then there was the time of the chocobo race!

"It was an event in one of the Garden Festivals, the first after the War, actually. Selphie had made it fancy-dress, too – the theme was superheroes. It was meant to be a joke, to stop people pestering us about the whole War thing. So, we all turn up as Spiderman (me) and Wonderwoman (Selphie) and so on – and everyone else dresses up as – guess?

"That's right – US!

"The only good thing was Squall's face (he was Superman) when he realised that he was almost the only bloke in tights! Everyone else was in baggy long shorts, or leather pants, or cowboy gear. Even Seifer came – dressed as Zell! Even Squall laughed at that.

"But I'm not telling you about the chocobo race, am I? 

"Well, it was billed as the grand finale to the Festival. There were two categories, male and female – jockeys that is; no-one bothered to ask the chocobos – and the girls went first. The prize for them was a box set of Julia Heartilly CDs. 

"Well, Selphie just adores Julia's music. I could tell by the set of her shoulders as she sat on her chocobo that she was determined to win. There's that slight stubborn streak to my little ray of sunshine, too. 

"So, all the girls line up – Rinoa (didn't want the prize, but wanted to take part for the fun of it), Quistis (loves any type of competition), the Library Girl (wanting to impress Zell), an assortment of other female SeeDs; and Selphie, her face crunched up with concentration, chin thrust out, gripping the poor chocobo's reins as if her life depended on it.

The starter fired his gun, and they were off in a swirl of dust.

"The crowd cheered and shouted and stamped its feet. The air was full of the heat of the race, and the mingled smells of dust and hotdogs. I was so engrossed by it all that I didn't notice I'd spilled my lemonade all over my Spiderman costume until I climbed aboard my own chocobo later on.

"The course was all tight bends and high fences, and most of the female jockeys approached it fairly cautiously. Hyne, _I_ was going to approach it cautiously when it was my turn! I say most – Quistis and Selphie were the notable exceptions.

"Within minutes they were way out in front, both leaning low over their chocobos' necks, pushing the poor birds to their limits. I was positioned near a series of three jumps, the hardest on the course, so I got a great view of what happened.

"The race was three laps long for the women, and for the first two Quisty and Selph were neck and neck. The first of the jumps I mentioned came right after a tight bend, but each time they were both ready for it, their chocobos lifting into the air effortlessly, as if they really were the mounts of superheroes and had some kind of magic abilities. 

"The second jump, a water jump, came up quickly after the first, but again both women cleared it easily, with no danger of getting their birds' feet wet. They were so close, it was like watching synchronised racing; the birds leaping and landing at almost exactly the same moment.

"The final jump in this series was the worst, because it was so deceptive. It wasn't very high on the take-off side, but then it dropped away on the landing side, so it was about twice the size. On the first lap, Quistis almost faltered on the landing, but my fearless Selphie sailed over with no problem. Quistis caught her up easily, and on the second lap she didn't hesitate.

"The Incident happened at this third jump, on the third lap.

"Without anyone noticing, a couple of bite bugs had flown up, and landed in the branches and stuff they use to make the jumps. They sat there sunning themselves, completely oblivious to the noise and commotion going on all around them. The crowd was going completely wild by this time, joined by all of the other female jockeys, who had either fallen off their mounts or had just given up.

"Quistis and Selphie were so focussed on the race, and on urging their birds over the fences, I don't think they were even aware of the crowd anymore. They were both caked in dust, with their sweat making little runnels through it, like streams in a desert.

"Clearing the water jump, the two chocobos pounded towards the third fence, the final jump of the race, and leaped. Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, the bite bugs appeared, spooked by the approaching chocobos. Both birds flinched – surely it was the end of the race for Quistis and Selphie.

"Indeed, alarmed both by the bug and her chocobo's reaction, Quistis tumbled off. Luckily, the chocobo was not far from the ground, and she landed in the soft dust of the course where she lay still until the medics reached her.

"But I wasn't watching Quistis – I was watching Selphie, my heart in my mouth. At the sight of the bite bug, her chocobo flinched, just as Quistis' had. But somehow, Selphie managed to keep control of it. She whispered to it, her face pressed right into its feathers, reassuring the bird through her own confidence.

"And by some miracle, the chocobo recovered to land safely on the other side of the fence. Selphie raced to the finish line, as if she still had the whole field to beat, then scrambled off her bird and raced back to Quistis to see if she was all right.

"That's my Selphie, you see; completely fearless, but always concerned about others.

"Then there's the Ragnarok.

*********

"Selphie flies that thing as if it's an extension of her own adorable little body. No, she flies it as if she is really able to fly herself, as if she really does have the powers of a superhero, and the Ragnarok is a glossy, shiny red cloak.

"How can I explain to her that it absolutely terrifies me? 

"The sky is like a second home to her. She gets such a thrill out of skimming through the clouds, riding the air currents as if the Ragnarok were a car, and the ephemeral air were solid ground. Every time she turns to me, her face alight with joy, my stomach twists within me. At any other time, her ecstatic 'Woo hoo!' makes me want to start leaping and shouting too; but feigning nonchalance in the co-pilot's seat on the Ragnarok, it makes me feel sick.

"So, what do you think of your 'hero' now? Will you denounce me as a chicken-wuss and curse my name?

"I'm almost afraid to tell you the story of how I became so scared of flying, because it might merely provoke your sympathy, but having come this far, I will go on to the bitter end.

********

"You see, it's all the fault of my Uncle Dan. You've read all the biographies. You know how it was thought that I had drowned with my parents, but somehow Uncle Dan traced me to the Orphanage, brought me home, raised me.

"I owe him so much – he taught me everything I know in a series of 1,216 lessons, or thereabouts! I still miss him.

"But he also gave me a morbid terror of flying; this is how it happened.

********

"'Lesson #662 – get a hobby no-one else has. No girl can resist a man who is truly unique,' Uncle Dan told me when I was about twelve.

"'Like what?' I asked.

"'Like flying!' he cried.

"Well, I was intrigued. As far as I knew, none of my friends could fly a plane; it sounded like fun.

"So, Uncle Dan made all the arrangements – some mate of his owed him a favour, probably. Uncle Dan was always calling in favours, but I never saw what he did to earn them!

"Early one sunny Saturday morning we set off in his 'chick-magnet' car. I spent hours polishing that car, dreaming of one day driving it myself and watching the girls drool after me the way they did Uncle Dan. He left it to me in his will, but I've never been able to bring myself to drive it. I can't bear to sell it, either, though, so it's just sitting in the garage at Garden. But every Sunday afternoon, I go down there and polish it to a showroom shine, make sure the engine still purrs like a contented cat, then lock it up and walk away for another week.

"Anyway, on with the tale. During the drive, Uncle Dan and I discussed a new superhero comic which had just gone on sale – 'Odine of Esthar'. Esthar was a real place, Uncle Dan assured me, and he remembered the name Odine from the Sorceress War, but he didn't think the man was a hero. But discussing the adventures of Odine and friends as they battled the Evil Sorceress kept us entertained as we drove through the summer sunshine.

"Finally, we arrived at the airfield. It was only a small place, designed for private planes, those little two-seater jobs. Uncle Dan's mate-who-owed-him-a-favour was waiting for us when we arrived, and Uncle Dan introduced us. I can't remember her name now, but I remember every inch of her bust – it was at exactly my eye-level.

"I think the two of them forgot I was there for a few minutes. Uncle Dan was talking in a low voice, so I couldn't catch what he was saying (not that I was concentrating on him, either – I was too busy with my perusal of the pilot's credentials), and the woman kept giggling.

"Eventually, they seemed to remember the matter in hand and we all headed over to one of the little planes. This one had seats for a pilot and co-pilot, and for four passengers. I expected Uncle Dan to sit up front with the woman, but he insisted I get into the co-pilot's seat.

"'You'll be able to experience the whole thing much better from there,' he said. 'I'm going in the back.'

"Well, the whole idea _was_ for me to get a taste of flying, so I shrugged and scrambled in. Uncle Dan's friend made sure I was properly strapped in, and then started to explain what all the controls and dials were for, and all the checks she had to carry out before we could take off.

"'Oh, never mind all that!' came Uncle Dan's voice from the passenger seats. 'It's only a taster flight to give him an idea of the thrill of it all!'

"The woman shook her head and smiled at me and my knees turned to jelly. I think she said something, but my ears were ringing with the violin music which seemed to play whenever she looked at me, and I didn't hear her. I just grinned like an idiot.

"The next thing I remember clearly was taxiing down the tiny runway, and the sudden sensation that most of my body had remained on the ground, whilst my head had leaped suddenly into the air. The pilot glanced at me to see how I was enjoying the 'thrill' of take-off, and laughed gently at my face which I believe was frozen into a mask of horror.

"Then suddenly the plane levelled out and we were gliding through the clouds. The sky was a perfect blue, with little puffy clouds floating in it, and birds flapping lazily by – and us. The plane shook and shuddered, and the engines rattled and wheezed, but I felt totally calm, totally serene.

"'So, how are you enjoying it, Irvy?' my uncle asked.

"I got quite a shock at the sound of his voice. He had left his seat, and come forward to lean over the back of my seat and the pilot's. 

"'Don't you have to stay sitting down?' I asked in some alarm.

"'No, not while we're flying straight like this. Hey, I know,' he said, turning to the pilot, 'why don't we do a couple of loop-the-loops?'

"'Hey, yeah, cool!' she replied.

"'I'm not sure about that,' I said. At least I think I did.

"Maybe I only thought it and never said it out loud, or maybe they just didn't hear me. Either way, Uncle Dan returned to his seat and buckled himself in, and the pilot began to prepare to fly the plane upside down.

"I gripped the arms of my seat, tensing my whole body. I didn't want to do this at all, but I didn't want my uncle to see that I was scared. Scaredy cats never get girls – lesson # 321.

"It was as dreadful as I had imagined. My stomach rolled over with the plane, and I had to struggle not to throw up, or scream. A cold sweat prickled the skin all over my body, and I watched in horrified fascination as the little drops of moisture fell _above_ my head. 

"Then suddenly, we were the right way up again. I was so relieved that I actually shouted out.

"'Yeeees!!' I cried.

"'That was great, wasn't it?' my uncle shouted, and before I could explain his error, he called to the pilot, 'Do that again!'

"'I've got a better idea,' she replied, and went into a death roll.

"This was worse, much worse, than the loop-the-loop. I think I may have actually passed out from the stress of not showing my fear. I have never been so frightened in my life.

"The rest of the flight, and the torture they put me through, is a blur. I couldn't even bring myself to remember the initial feelings of calm joy I felt when we were first airborne. All that passed through my mind was the terror.

"After what seemed like days, but was really only an hour or so, we landed. After Uncle Dan and his friend had said their lengthy goodbyes, he and I walked back to the car. I barely managed a smile to acknowledge the pilot's farewell.

"'So, what did you think?' asked Uncle Dan, as we began the long drive home. 'Want to learn to do loop-the-loops yourself?'

"'Er, no, Uncle Dan, not really,' I stuttered.

"He frowned and glanced sideways at me. 

"'Why not?' he asked. 'Didn't you like it?'

"'Oh, it's not that!' I said quickly. 'Er, in fact, I think I maybe liked it too much! Er, yeah, that pilot – she's hot! I couldn't concentrate on my lessons with her teaching me.'

"'Well, that's true,' Uncle Dan replied. 'Maybe we could find someone else…….'

"My heart sank at these words, but then lifted as he said, 'No, there's no-one else I could ask at the airfield. Oh, well, Irvy, we'll just have to find you another hobby, I suppose!'

"I couldn't believe how easy it was! Looking back, I think he probably realised the truth of the matter, but didn't want to shame me by forcing me to admit it. At any rate, flying was never mentioned by either of us again.

"Now, there's a hero. Uncle Dan tried his best to make a man of me, telling me over and over again how important it was to be big and brave and unafraid. But he always knew when he had gone too far with something and when I was really frightened, and he never threw it back in my face.

*********

"And I never flew again – until Selphie fell in love with the Ragnarok.

"Sometimes the only way to spend time with her is to go on the damn thing, and the terrors of that day come flooding back, every time. But how can I tell her, when her face shines like the sun, and she's swooping through the clouds and shouting 'Woo hoo!' at the top of her lungs? How can I tell her I'm almost frightened enough to throw up?

"So, next time you read something about Irvine Kinneas, hero of the Second Sorceress War, remember this little tale. Whilst the light of my life is soaring high, the Ragnarok wrapped around her like a superhero's protective cloak, I am a miserable puddle of fear, held together only by the greater fear of revealing my shame to her.

"Of course, if you do happen to remember this story when you recover from your drunken stupor, and you try to sell it to any of the newspapers, I'll deny every word of it. After all, who's going to believe that one of the heroes of the Second Sorceress War is afraid of flying?"


End file.
